


Sick Days (The Babysitting Remix)

by Brenda



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are days when McCoy swears he's stuck babysitting children instead of being CMO on a starship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Days (The Babysitting Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saekhwa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In the Sleeping Curves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/311786) by [lady_krysis (saekhwa)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis). 



**(Outside the Klingon Z-4 Defense Outpost on the way to the Kedo-Enol System)**

 

"Dammit, Jim, hold still," McCoy orders, and presses down on the hypospray. 

"Ow!" Kirk slaps a hand against his neck and glares at McCoy. "That hurt."

The kid's lucky he hadn't jabbed it in harder. "Stop being such a baby. Now, let me have a look at your leg."

"My leg's fine," Kirk grumbles, then lets out a pained noise when he tries to lift it. "Okay, maybe not."

"Damn fool idiot is what you are," McCoy states, running his tricorder over the injury. It's worse than he'd expected. Typical Kirk, not to care that McCoy has a full, busy schedule. Kirk's lucky McCoy hadn't left him in the tender care of Dr. Oorn. Lurians may be competent doctors, but they never met a conversational hole they couldn't fill with mindless chatter. "MCL and meniscus tears, and you tore a quad muscle. Not to mention you dislocated your shoulder and you have a grade two concussion. What the hell were you thinking?" 

Not that he thinks Kirk _had_ been thinking, but that's not exactly unusual. Kirk may be the hero of Starfleet at the moment, and may be smarter than most people McCoy's met (which isn't saying much - McCoy tends to have a low opinion on just about everyone's relative intelligence or lack thereof), but impulse control had never been one of Kirk's strong suits, not even when they'd both been at the Academy. 

"I was thinking that the Klingon coming after me had a bat'leth, and I didn't have my phaser on me. Discretion, valor, all that," Kirk adds, with a negligent wave of his hand.

Figures, McCoy thinks. He’s stuck on this flying bucket of bolts babysitting children, their juvenile captain most definitely included. "That's what you get for trying to cheat a Klingon."

"I wasn't cheating – _OW_ , goddammit Bones, are you trying to kill me –"

"I said keep still, didn't I?"

"Anyway, I wasn't cheating. I _wasn't_ ," Kirk insists, when McCoy just looks at him.

"That's not the story Sulu told me," McCoy replies, then sets the tricorder and regenerator down. He's done all he can for right now. "Alright, don't move for the next twenty minutes or I'll have to fix you up all over again. And if I have to do it again, I'm restraining you."

Kirk sits straight up, and gives McCoy his most imperious look. (Not that it's ever worked, and one would think Kirk would know that by now.) "You can't restrain me, I outrank you."

McCoy quirks an eyebrow. "Other way around, kid, or did you blow off the class on how rank works to chase after some skirt?"

Kirk slumps back, and crosses his arms. He resembles a recalcitrant, pouting child, which is a pretty apt description. A genius-level IQ and the petulance to match when he doesn't get his way. 

Kirk frowns. "Anyone ever tell you that you have a terrible bedside manner?"

"I don't appreciate wasting my time when I've got _real_ patients to look after." McCoy points at Kirk's knee. "Move it and I'll inject you with the Caldorian Clap. Am I clear?"

"Yeah, yeah, staying put as ordered, Doctor _Sir_ ," Kirk replies, still frowning. McCoy thinks about telling him he looks like he's about five years old. "You could at least send Chapel over to keep me company while I'm stuck here."

"My head nurse has more important things to do than flirt with you." And even if she didn't, McCoy would find something for her to do. "In case you haven't looked around or bothered to read the medical reports I send you after every shift, I'm dealing with an outbreak of Parinisti Measles and the Arethian Flu. Damn ship is a walking disease factory."

Kirk rakes a hand through his hair and purses his lips. "You know, you're even grumpier than normal. When's the last time you slept?"

McCoy rolls his eyes. "Unlike you, I have actual work to do. Don't move the leg," he barks, then curses as Spock saunters into Sickbay as pretty as you please, in uniform no less, with his hands clasped behind his back.

"I thought I put you on bed rest for the next forty-eight hours."

Spock gives him an impassive look that makes the hairs on the back of McCoy's neck stand up straight. Reminds him too much of his ex-wife. "Thank you for your concern, Doctor, but I am feeling much better."

"Yeah, well, I'll be the judge of that. Damn stubborn Vulcans," McCoy mutters to himself, and runs the tricorder over Spock. "Your blood pressure's low, and your heartbeat's still erratic."

"As you so eloquently just stated, Doctor, I _am_ a Vulcan."

" _Half_ Vulcan, and who died and made you CMO?" McCoy retorts, ignoring Kirk, who's sniggering and not even trying to hide it. "Unless you've got a medical degree I don't know about."

Spock merely shrugs and turns to Kirk, ignoring McCoy. Which just pisses him off even more. "Captain, the head of the Canamar penal colony would like to know our ETA with the Ryetalyn."

"Out of bed _and_ up on the bridge." McCoy throws up his hands, resisting the urge to hit something. "Are you trying to undo all of my work? I should have left you to die on Cardassia Prime."

"Relax, Bones, he says he's fine," Kirk says, then taps at his lips. "How bad's it gotten down there?"

"The Fever is spreading at a more rapid pace than the Enolians had anticipated."

"Hmmm, tricky. And when are we due on Meles II?"

"We're going to Canamar first," McCoy states, glaring at Kirk. If Kirk thinks he can weasel his way out of this supply run, he's about to be sorely disappointed. "I don't give a good goddamn if they are all murderers and rapists, we're not letting an entire planet die because you've got something better waiting for you at Meles II. Quit stalling."

"I'm not stalling, I'm gathering information," Kirk replies, in that calm, controlled voice that means he's humoring McCoy. Something else that reminds McCoy of his ex-wife. He's pretty sure Kirk and Spock have some conspiracy going to drive him insane. "Seriously, when's the last time you got out of Sickbay? You're not normally quite this quick to jump down my throat."

"The Captain is correct, Doctor. You do appear a little peaked."

"Maybe I'm in a bad mood because you disobeyed a direct order _by_ your doctor to stay in bed and recover," McCoy snaps, wondering if he could get away with placing both Spock and Kirk in stasis. It would serve them right. "I should have you court-martialed." 

He still can't get the image of Spock - unconscious, a sickly grey color, and far too still as he lay crumbled on the ground with the rubble of a building all around him - out of his mind. And the stubborn, stupid hobgoblin doesn't even have the decency to act like he's done anything wrong by leaving his quarters. It's a wonder McCoy hasn't taken to carrying a flask around while on shift.

"That is certainly your prerogative, Doctor..."

"No one's court-martialing anyone," Kirk cuts in. "I thought you two were getting along better."

"We were until just now." McCoy crosses his arms. He may not win any staring contests with Spock, but he's not backing down. "You were almost fatally injured not even two days ago, _Commander_. Kaplan and Greene are still recovering. You shouldn't be up, let alone on duty."

"Be that as it may –"

"Spock, do me a favor, and go back to your quarters."

"Captain..."

Kirk sighs. "Don't make me order you. I promise, I'll deal with the Enolians as soon as I'm allowed to leave Sickbay. And I promise I'll make Bones get some rest, too."

McCoy bristles at the suggestion. Like he's some wet behind the ears doctor who doesn't know his own limits. "You can't make –"

Kirk narrows his eyes. "Shut it or _I'll_ order _you_ to take some R &R on Risa and I'll send Scotty and Gaila with you as babysitters."

McCoy remembers the last time Scotty and Gaila had dragged him out while on shore leave, and winces. There's still a good twelve hours he's fuzzy on – he's pretty sure they'd put something in his whiskey. He remembers waking up in one of the pleasure houses in a bright pink bathrobe and nothing else, clothes missing, with bruises he hadn't wanted to know about, and sore in places he's _sure_ he never needs to hear about. "That's a low blow, Jim."

"So is threatening me with whatever horrible diseases you can think of off the top of your head when I do something you don't like," Kirk says, then turns back to Spock. "Much as I hate agreeing with him right now, Bones is right. You're still recovering from your injuries. You need your rest."

For a moment, Spock looks like he's going to argue, but instead he nods. "As you wish, Captain."

"Glad you're finally seeing reason," McCoy says, somewhat mollified. Everyone on this ship seems determined to kill themselves in one way or another. They're lucky they've got him looking out for them.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jo for the beta!!!!!!


End file.
